


let me catch your breath

by pumpkinless



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Begging, Clubbing, Daddy Kink, Demisexual Keith (Voltron), Dirty Talk, Keith Wearing Leather, M/M, Praise Kink, Shiro in a Mesh Shirt, Size Kink, Virgin Keith (Voltron), the one night stand that becomes true love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 19:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinless/pseuds/pumpkinless
Summary: Shiro goes to the club because he likes dancing, eighties night, and hanging out with his best friend. He didn't expect to meet someone like Keith.





	let me catch your breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugarcubeshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/gifts).

> i can't believe i haven't written more daddy kink. also can't believe i originally thought this would be 3k oops. i loved writing it too much, i guess!
> 
> slight content warning for age difference: keith is 18 and shiro is 25, but they're not worried about it. title is from "catch your breath" by young galaxy. you can see the harness keith is wearing [here](https://www.etsy.com/listing/645725348/men-leather-harness-men-bdsm-mens?ref=shop_home_active_42&pro=1&frs=1).
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!

Shiro is ordering drinks at the bar when he sees the most beautiful eyes in the world.

They belong to the man standing next to Shiro, a fistful of cash in hand, both his forearms leaning on the bartop while he waits to make his order. Shiro only catches his eyes briefly, but they are arresting—enough that Shiro does a double-take, looking again at the slope of his upturned nose and the rugged scar on his sharp jaw. 

_ Wow, _ Shiro thinks. 

Shiro misses his chance to introduce himself when the bartender returns and takes the man’s order. He can’t figure out what to say, how to insert himself into this guy’s life, and the last Shiro sees of him is strong, toned arms peeking out of a sleeveless shirt before he disappears into the crowd.

Shiro sighs at himself and gives the bartender his order. Flirting on the spot has never been one of Shiro's skills.

Drinks in hand, he stumbles back through the thick crowd of the club to Allura with stars still in his eyes. She signs  _ thank you _ at him as he delivers her cocktail, hips never losing momentum while she dances. 

Then Whitney Houston comes on, Allura’s face lights up, and Shiro can’t resist.

He throws himself into the song, a stupid smile on his face while he shouts the words at his best friend and she shouts them back, the glitter on her cheeks catching the light from the disco ball. Momentarily, Shiro forgets all about beautiful boys. He came out tonight to have fun, not pine over the most fleeting of moments, and he  _ loves _ this song.

He takes Allura by the hand and twirls her during the chorus, shouting out,  _ “Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody!” _ She laughs and reaches up high to return the favor—Shiro has to duck to fit under her arm, even when she’s on her tiptoes, but it makes him feel young and silly and untethered, caught only in the moment of joyfully jumping bodies. Allura throws her head back to belt out the next line in time with everyone around them, and Shiro takes the time to toss back the rest of his drink.

His head comes back down, and by some miracle, he spots the man with the beautiful eyes again. He’s just as arresting the second time.

The crowd frames him like a portrait. Combat boots, painted-on black jeans riding low on his hips. His white shirt sleeves are open down to the hem, hanging loose around him and showing off all his lean, lithe muscles. Shiro’s mouth goes dry and he stumbles in his dancing when he processes the red leather strapped around the man’s waist—there’s some kind of harness underneath the shirt. It calls to Shiro, makes him want to put his hands on it.

He’s just  _ so hot. _

A palm lands on Shiro’s shoulder and shoves him. It’s Allura, smirking and pushing Shiro toward the man.  _ Go, _ she mouths, and Shiro wants to argue, but then she points at herself and then to a woman blatantly staring right at Allura. The argument is clear.

Shiro puts his hand up for a high five. Allura slaps it enthusiastically.

They didn’t come here to meet people or hook up, not at their monthly outing to eighties night. But, Shiro supposes, there’s no shame in letting the night guide him where it wants, and right now, he’s happy and hazy with just enough alcohol to make his face warm and his mind focused on what he wants.

And what he wants is to find out what those hips he's staring at will feel like when they move against his own.

Shiro isn't subtle in his approach. He gauges the interest in the man's eyes, letting him give Shiro a once over. Shiro’s only wearing comfortable jeans and a form-fitting black mesh shirt, but the man's lips curl like he likes what he sees. See-through clothing does Shiro’s abs a lot of favors, he knows.

The invitation in the man’s wink is clear.

"I'm Shiro," he shouts into the man's ear, loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Keith."

_ Keith. _

Shiro doesn't need to know more.

Keith's hand finds Shiro's right bicep, squeezing just above the line of the prosthetic, and his free hand pushes his bangs out of his eyes so he can look at Shiro. His face is purple underneath the lights of the dance floor, his eyes shining. He bites his lip when Shiro's hands find his hips and hold on tight.

Keith isn't a great dancer, but neither is Shiro. What's intoxicating is the way he feels when he touches Shiro, how he presses his body in tight and stays shameless when he touches Shiro's chest. He traces the lines of Shiro's muscles over his shirt, proprietary and hungry. 

ABBA is playing. Loud as it is, Shiro can't concentrate on the music because Keith's mouth is so close to the pulse point on his neck.

Shiro should be bold too. He pulls Keith's hips flush against his.

***

He loses track of how long they dance. At some point, Keith spins around in Shiro's arms just so he can grind his ass against Shiro. Shiro's hands find themselves slipping inside the dropped armholes of Keith's t-shirt, shamelessly sliding along the leather encircling his slim waist. He's so small underneath Shiro's hands but far from delicate—the cut of muscle is unmistakable, his abs hard. Keith is mouthwateringly ripped and Shiro really wants to get on his knees and appreciate that.

They find their way back to the bar together. Keith has two black X's on the backs of his wrists, so Shiro buys them the most ostentatious virgin cocktails the bartender will agree to make. Keith laughs and leans in to tell Shiro he should have just gotten water to cut down on the price, so Shiro orders water as well and toasts Keith with both glasses.

Keith's eyes shine and his smile transforms his entire face.

Shiro wants to kiss him.

***

Keith kisses him when they’re back on the dance floor. Shiro's trying to make him laugh, howling his way through a club remix of "Take On Me," and then suddenly there are hands on his cheeks pulling him down. Keith tastes tropical, like coconut and pineapple, and his lips are every bit as soft as Shiro imagined.

It’s a fast, hard kiss. Keith pulls back almost as quickly as he leaned in and stares deep into Shiro’s eyes. There’s something there in his face that Shiro can’t place, but it’s easy to read the way Keith’s gaze dips down to Shiro’s lips. Shiro pulls Keith in close with a hand on his lower back and tilts his face up so Shiro can kiss him properly—can use every dirty trick he knows to show him exactly how attractive he thinks Keith is. 

This time, the kiss is scorching like a wildfire, unending and overwhelming. The music pounds, stray bodies bumping all around them, but Shiro can’t take his mouth off Keith. Not when Keith holds him so tight in return and slides one suggestive hand down into the back pocket of Shiro’s jeans, squeezing his ass. It’s impossible to misinterpret.

Shiro wants them to leave this club together so badly he can’t wait.

Shouting a proposition into someone’s ear isn’t sexy, but Shiro has to work with what he’s got. “Come home with me,” he says. Keith bites his lip, considering, and then he nods. He leans up for a quick kiss, smiling at Shiro almost shyly.

Keith looks good under neon club lights. Shiro thinks he’ll look even better stretched across a bed.

***

Shiro calls them a Lyft, texts Allura to let her know what’s going on, and then finally he’s outside the club with Keith in the relative quiet.

“Hi there,” he says, grinning down at Keith with an arm wrapped around his waist. Keith’s gloved fingers are tangled up with Shiro’s prosthetic hand, holding on tight like he needs something to guide him. Shiro really enjoys holding his hand.

“Hey,” Keith says. His voice is surprisingly deep, his tone husky and warm. Shiro loves it immediately.

“Come here often?” Shiro jokes, but Keith takes it seriously and shakes his head.

“Just turned eighteen a few weeks ago,” he says. Shiro freezes. “This is my first time here.”

Eighteen. Oh, boy. Shiro knew he looked young, but he wasn’t counting on just barely into adulthood.

“What?” Keith says. He seems to have realized he admitted too much, but Shiro is actually glad to know. He doesn’t have a problem with it, necessarily—this is a one night stand, not a marriage proposal, but he should still be as upfront as Keith was.

“I’m twenty-five,” Shiro says carefully. He doesn’t loosen his hold on Keith because he doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression. “I’m okay with this if you are.”

Keith’s gaze drops to his mouth again and he licks his own lips. “Twenty-five, huh?” he murmurs. “Kinda thought you were older, honestly, with the hair.”

Shiro shakes his silver tuft out of his eyes self-consciously. “You’re not the first person to think that.”

Keith’s head tilts and then he pulls Shiro in for another kiss just as filthy as the one they had inside the club. His tongue sweeps into Shiro’s mouth and takes no prisoners, and Shiro can’t help but moan into it. God, he can’t remember the last time he felt this kind of electric attraction.

“I’m very okay with this,” Keith whispers against his mouth.

That’s all Shiro needed to hear.

*** 

The ride home takes approximately forever and their car is the kind of minivan that doesn’t have a seat in the middle, so Shiro just has to contend with sitting two feet away from Keith and mourning the contact. He tries so hard not to fidget with impatience but knows he’s anything but subtle. All Shiro can do is wait, and then once they’re out of the car, the distance disappears.

Shiro is wild with desire. He herds Keith into his apartment building and up the stairs to the second floor, third door on the left, and Keith laughs but doesn’t protest. Thank god for that.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself once the door finally closes behind them. They shed their shoes, even though it’s sad to see Keith without his boots.

“Can I give you the tour?” Shiro finally asks.

“Yeah.”

He takes Keith by the hand again, drawing him into the living room. The tour ends quite promptly there when Keith puts his hands on the middle of Shiro’s chest and shoves him down onto the couch, climbing into his lap and chasing Shiro’s mouth with his own.

Shiro couldn’t turn him down if he wanted to. Sitting on top of Shiro like this, Keith feels especially small, like the height difference between them has transformed into something even headier. Shiro loves it—he’s always loved men who are smaller than him, but he’s especially excited by Keith. He feels so strong: Shiro drags a hand over one of Keith’s biceps and finds only hard muscle, unmistakably built and surprising for his small frame. God, Shiro wants to see more, he wants to trace his eyes over Keith’s whole body.

But Keith has other plans. His mouth is unrelenting on Shiro, kissing him with a feral intoxication until Shiro can only submit to it. He moves with Keith when Keith surges in, lets him back away to tease, and when Shiro can’t resist the long column of his neck anymore, Keith makes the most irresistible noises. He gasps like he’s surprised. A hand buries itself in the top of Shiro’s hair and clutches at it almost too tightly, pulling Shiro closer in and keeping him there until Shiro has no choice but to leave a violently red mark just under the edge of Keith’s jaw. Keith shudders and moans, hips twitching forward. Shiro growls. He barely recognizes the sound from himself, but he’s so hungry for this.

Shiro slides a hand over Keith’s ass and pulls him in, guides his hips into a slow, rocking motion. Keith’s breath stutters in his chest and he squeezes Shiro’s shoulder. His moans are small, hitched little things, like he’s nervous to let them out but still can’t quite stop himself.

Shiro drags his teeth over Keith’s throat and nips at the skin, teasing him. Keith grinds his hips hard against Shiro’s lap, a helpless moan tearing out of his throat. 

_ Eighteen.  _ It’s not hard to guess why Keith sounds like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels like it would be rude to ask Keith about his exact level of inexperience, but Shiro is happy to take the lead. More than happy, even.

Shiro is so fucking hard. 

“Fuck,” Shiro hisses, pressing a hard kiss to Keith’s parted lips. “You sound so fucking good like this, baby.”

“Oh.” Keith looks at him with wide eyes.

Shiro hooks a finger in the neck of Keith’s shirt and tugs. “Can I take this off?” he asks. 

Keith licks his lips. He reaches for the back collar of his shirt and pulls it up over his head with a flourish, dropping it down to the floor. Shiro’s breath stutters out of him at the sight. He can’t believe this.

“Fucking hell,” Shiro whispers. “You’re so hot.  _ This _ is so hot, baby.” His hands trace the red straps coming down from Keith’s shoulders, attached to the three bands of leather buckled at the front around his thin waist. It perfectly frames the defined muscles of his chest, the shadow of the top of his abs, the dip of his collarbones. Shiro’s mouth goes dry with the desire to lick Keith’s chest all over, to bite at his dusky brown nipples and show Keith exactly how attractive he is.

“It’s new,” Keith tells him.

Shiro tucks two fingers under the top buckle around Keith’s waist and tugs playfully at it. “You look so good in leather,” he says.

“That’s good to know,” Keith says. His gloved hands slide up Shiro’s neck to cup his jaw and turn his face up for a kiss that never comes. Their lips hover just millimeters apart from each other, sharing breath, and the tip of Keith's nose brushes over the bridge of Shiro's. Shiro throbs in his jeans—this is so much hotter than it has any right to be.

“You’re teasing me, baby,” Shiro breathes. 

“You have really sexy eyebrows,” Keith murmurs. His voice is so low that it sends shivers of arousal through Shiro. Eyebrows shouldn’t be a provoking conversational topic, but Keith sounds like he means it.

“Do I?”

“Mhm.” Keith leans their foreheads together. “They were the first thing I noticed about you.”

Shiro isn’t a stranger to compliments on his body, but that’s a new one. It’s sweet and honest, and that makes his heart flutter happily. 

Shiro slots their mouths back together, unable to resist anymore. He strokes his hands up and down Keith’s chest just to map out the hard planes of his body. His skin is hot and smooth, the smattering of chest hair between his pecs soft and good to the touch, and Shiro can’t get enough. 

“I noticed your eyes,” Shiro confesses into his mouth. 

Keith moans and grinds his hips down into Shiro’s, moving like a livewire. Keith’s hands find the hem of Shiro’s shirt and start to slide it up, his greedy fingers petting over Shiro’s abs with a hunger that Shiro recognizes within himself. Pushing Keith far enough back that Shiro can get the thin mesh off is a difficult and taxing thing, but the end result is Keith’s hands on his pecs and a mouth biting down on the muscle between his neck and shoulders, and it sends arousal zinging through Shiro. He whimpers, helpless to it.

“I liked that shirt,” Keith breathes against his skin, “but this is better.”

Keith is exactly Shiro’s type, physically, and he’s got a spitfire personality shining through every movement he makes. The leather harness says a whole lot on its own, and Shiro likes everything he’s hearing.

Another sloppy, deep kiss takes Shiro’s breath away. He nudges the tips of his fingers down just underneath the waistband of Keith’s pants, testing the waters.

“Baby . . . .” Shiro whispers.

“You should show me where your bed is,” Keith pants in his ear. “I really—really wanna see that part of the tour.”

Shiro doesn’t need telling twice. 

He also doesn’t need to waste a chance to impress Keith.

Shiro slides his hands underneath Keith’s thighs, pulling him in tight while Shiro does the hard work of lifting both their bodies at once. Keith clings to him, a pretty gasp leaving his lips, and Shiro noses at the side of his head with a smug smile hidden away from Keith’s eyes. 

“It’s this way,” he says, navigating them carefully out from the tangle of furniture.

Keith just tucks his face into Shiro’s neck and holds on tight.

Shiro spares a moment to be grateful that he picked up his bedroom before he left for the club, putting everything back in its place and ensuring there wasn’t dirty laundry on the floor. His bed is a bit rumpled, but neatly made covers aren’t going to last very long tonight anyway. 

“We’re here,” Shiro says, bending his knees to set Keith gently down on the bed. Keith takes a cursory look around before his determined gaze lands back on Shiro.

A hand lands on the button of Shiro’s jeans. “There a reason you’re still all the way up there?” Keith asks slyly.

“Maybe,” Shiro says. 

Keith snorts and curls his calves around the backs of Shiro’s thighs, tugging him up against the bed. He leans in close and presses a kiss to Shiro’s skin just above the waistband of his pants, and Shiro shudders—he can’t stop himself from imagining Keith pulling out his cock just to get his mouth on it, how pretty his lips, red from kissing, would be stretched around it. Shiro pushes out a sigh and strokes his fingers gently through the top of Keith’s hair. 

“You have no idea how good you look down here,” Shiro says hoarsely. Keith laughs and tugs at one of Shiro’s belt loops.

"You look good up there," Keith says, tipping his head back to look Shiro in the eye.

Shiro swallows hard. "I think," he says slowly, "I miss kissing you too much to stay this far away."

Keith's mouth drops open in surprise, his whole face transformed from teasing to wonder, beautiful and expressive. He lets Shiro urge him up onto the center of the bed so Shiro can climb in after him, bracing himself on his prosthetic arm over Keith while his free hand traces the shape of Keith's bottom lip.

"There's just something about you," Shiro murmurs. "I wanna make you feel so good, baby."

Keith bites his bottom lip, and Shiro stills the movement of his thumb across it. It's probably not meant to be seductive, but Shiro can't keep his eyes off his mouth. "You too," Keith whispers. "I've never—um, I've never actually met someone I wanted to have sex with before."

There it is. Shiro leans in and touches their foreheads together just like Keith did earlier. "Yeah?" he asks.

"I don't know what it is about you," Keith says lowly, "but I don't want you to stop."

Shiro kisses Keith's cheek softly. This is almost too intimate for a one night stand, but Keith is too magnetic to deny. Shiro wants so bad to take care of him, to watch Keith fall apart from pleasure under his hands; he just  _ knows  _ Keith will be the most beautiful creature Shiro has ever seen.

Keith's hand curls around Shiro's, pressing his cheek into Shiro's palm. 

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby," Shiro promises. He’ll be everything Keith needs because Keith is irresistible--he looks at Shiro with undisguised hunger, and Shiro wants to be the one to show him what to do with it. "If you'll let me."

"Yes," Keith breathes. His face betrays excitement and uncertainty in equal parts, but he’s only encouraging. "Yes, I really—please. Please, Shiro, I—” 

Shiro urges him into a kiss that cuts off his begging, sweet as it is to hear. Keith opens for him beautifully, moaning when Shiro's tongue sweeps over his lips. He presses their chests together, reveling in touching Keith skin to skin, and he sets to work kissing him so thoroughly Keith will lose his words. Even if Shiro fails in his task, it's no amount of wasted time.

Somehow, Shiro ends up with Keith's arms wrapped around his neck and a thigh pushed between Keith's legs while they make out. Shiro presses his cock against Keith's hip, searching for friction, and Keith moans loudly into his mouth.

Gasping for breath, Shiro pulls back from Keith's lips so he can watch his face. This time, Shiro moves purposefully, dragging his thigh right over Keith's dick, and Keith rewards him with a sigh and fluttering eyelids. God, the way he looks is everything, and Shiro wants to see so much more.

"I think," Shiro says, trying hard to catch his breath, "we should get you out of these jeans."

Dazed, Keith nods.

Removing Keith's very tight pants is a process. Shiro can't even imagine how he got them on his body in the first place because it takes Shiro standing next to the bed and peeling them off inside out over Keith's legs to finally defeat them. He's wearing the smallest pair of red briefs, and they don't at all hide how hard he is.

"There," Shiro says, laughing as he lets the jeans fall to the floor. "Those looked so good on you, but—damn, baby."

"Just take your pants off and get back here," Keith says, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. His impatience is endearing and Shiro grins at him with what must be a stupidly wide smile.

"Yes, sir."

Keith laughs, covering his face with both hands. 

Shiro has never taken pants off faster.

He crawls right back between Keith's bare legs, kissing him eagerly. Keith hikes one leg around Shiro's waist to hold him in place, and there’s so much skin everywhere. Keith sounds so lovely underneath Shiro like this; every grind of Shiro’s hips against him sends a little punched breath out from Keith’s chest, and his hands trace greedily over the muscles in Shiro’s back.

The sentiment is mutual—Shiro can’t keep his own hands away from Keith’s waist, can’t stop teasing at the hem of his underwear and exploring the cut of his abs between the lines of the harness. And through all of it, he can’t stop kissing Keith. He can’t tear himself away from the way Keith moves his mouth like he wants to drug Shiro with his kisses, sweet and enthralling. There’s no stopping Shiro when he rolls them over, pulling Keith on top of him so he can put two hands on his ass and kiss him through the resulting groan. 

Keith tears away and props himself on his elbows above Shiro, his hair hanging around their faces. He huffs. 

“You’re just so . . . .” Keith tilts his head, seeming to lose his words.

Shiro squeezes his ass playfully. “So?”

But Keith doesn’t take the bait. He lightly drags his finger down the bridge of Shiro’s nose, considering him. “I like kissing you,” Keith says finally. 

“Mmm, me too.”

“I really—I think we should do more. If you want.”

“Yeah, baby?” Shiro smiles and—reluctantly—moves a hand up from Keith’s ass to touch his hair. It’s soft and thick, and Shiro likes the way Keith’s eyelids flutter when he gently scratches his nails against the nape of his neck. “I can think of a lot more I’d love to do with you.”

“Y-you can?”

The question sounds genuine, shaky with heat and like Keith really doesn’t know what to do with all of Shiro’s attention focused on him. He’s hands-on and certain one moment, and a stuttering mess of arousal the next. So Shiro pulls him closer, nudging his head to the side so he can bite at the thin skin in the hollow below Keith’s ear, just to keep Keith on that edge of overwhelmed, ready to give into Shiro’s touch. Keith shivers. “I’d really, really like to fuck you,” Shiro whispers, his voice cracking with pure desire. “Wanna hear what noises you make. Find out how you like it.” Shiro kisses the end of Keith’s ear. “Can I, baby? Do you want that?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice is so small that Shiro would worry that he’s pushing too far—but Keith’s hips twitch when Shiro speaks, like he’s so turned on he can’t control himself. “God, Shiro, I really want you to fuck me.”

The honesty in his voice is captivating.

***

Nakedness does not slow Keith down.

Shiro has to forcibly hold him back to get them settled, himself sitting up against the headboard and Keith in his lap. He likes the weight of Keith on top of him and he thinks it’s a good move to start out in a position where he can watch Keith’s face while Shiro opens him up on his fingers. 

Of course, it also means that Keith wants to keep making out. 

Keith does an excellent job of distracting Shiro with his mouth. He doesn’t stop moving in Shiro’s lap, rolling his hips like he can’t resist, nowhere near a practiced motion but no less irresistible in return. Shiro is already addicted to his desperation and can’t get enough of touching Keith’s thighs, his waist, his strong shoulders. Everywhere his hands move, he meets a responsive, encouraging sigh, and Shiro is quickly becoming addicted.

He doesn’t know how in the  _ world _ he misses Keith stripping off one glove, opening the lube, and pushing a finger inside himself. 

It’s the gasp into their kiss that gives Keith away. The sound is new and Shiro is curious about it, and so when he pulls away, he realizes that Keith’s arm is tucked behind him in an obvious tell.

“Baby,” Shiro says, not sure if he should laugh over the impatience and determination or pout because he wanted to be the one to do that. 

“Really—really need you inside me,” Keith says, breathless. His eyes burn.

Shiro wraps his right hand around Keith’s cock and strokes slow but firm. “You’re giving me all kinds of ideas,” Shiro says, looking Keith right in the eye. Between them, sparks fly. “I’d love to see you ride me, baby. You can fuck yourself on my cock however you want, how’s that sound?”

Keith’s mouth drops open. He goes for more lube and then his eyelids flutter when he pushes his fingers back inside himself—something animalistic roars inside Shiro at the sight. He can’t resist any longer, and his hand dips down over the swell of Keith’s ass to trace around where Keith has three fingers inside himself, stretching himself open for Shiro’s cock like he can’t wait another second longer to have something inside him. 

Shiro nudges closer, pushes just the tip of a finger inside. Keith pitches forward on a growl and bites at Shiro’s neck—he’s going to be a mess tomorrow, but it’ll be so worth it. 

“Is that a yes?” Shiro asks, nosing against Keith’s hair.

“Yeah,” Keith says in an explosive gasp against Shiro’s skin. “Yes, yes, Shiro, please, I—”

“Shh, oh, baby, I got you,” Shiro promises. “God, you need it that bad, huh? Already begging for me. That’s really hot.”

Keith moans and rips himself away from Shiro. “Now,” he demands. There’s something wild in his eyes that Shiro wants to play with. “Fuck me now.”

Shiro is absolutely not strong enough to resist an invitation that certain.

There’s some fumbling for a condom that Shiro isn’t proud of, but Keith shifting impatiently in his lap is sort of taking up most of his mental processing power right now, and Shiro is just a weak, mortal man. He scoots down the bed to give Keith a little more room to work with, and then suddenly they’re in position, Keith hovering just over Shiro’s cock in his leather harness and a single black glove. 

Shiro can’t stop himself from kissing Keith. “Ready?” he whispers against his mouth.

“Definitely,” Keith answers. There isn’t a hint of nervousness in his tone.

Shiro helps guide Keith as best as he can. He urges Keith to go slow, holding his own cock steady as Keith carefully sits down, letting the head push inside. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes are black, his red mouth open in something like surprise. He’s so beautiful, so honest and emotional in the way his hands cling to Shiro’s shoulders so hard his nails leave indents.

It’s almost unbelievable when Keith finally stops, fully seated on Shiro’s cock and looking like he’s experiencing something wholly unquantifiable.

Shiro strokes his fluttering sides, tells Keith how good he looks and feels. Shiro’s own pleasure is secondary right now—he knows Keith feels fucking incredible around him, so fucking tight, but even that is nothing compared to the expressions of pleasure and confusion and excitement warring on Keith’s face, even when he presses his eyes closed.

He’s so expressive. Shiro traces his jaw and says, “How’s that, baby?”

“Fuck,” Keith whispers. “I don’t—” A line appears between his eyebrows as he shifts his hips, rolling them in a little circle. Shiro forces down his own moan. “That’s so—”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmm.” A smile curls at the corners of Keith’s mouth, and it takes Shiro’s breath out of his chest. “I—ah, I like this.” 

Together, they slowly manage to guide Keith’s body into riding Shiro properly, and he seems to like that even more. Keith is a vision like this, sitting in Shiro’s lap with his thighs spread wide and his hard cock wet at the head. Shiro wants to taste him and kind of regrets not going for it earlier, but he can make time for that later. Now, he kisses Keith’s moans out of his mouth, one hand on his ass and the other clinging tightly to Keith’s bicep, just because he likes Keith’s muscles. 

The kiss is sloppy; Keith is understandably distracted. Shiro doesn’t care.

"That's it, baby," Shiro says, just slightly out of breath. Keith is starting to get it, finding a rhythm and an angle. His brow is wrinkled and his hands skitter across Shiro's chest, uncertain where to touch and too overwhelmed to settle in one place for long. “How’s it feel?”

“Mn, nice.” Keith bites his lip, concentrating on the motion of his body. “How--how does it feel for you?”

“So, so good,” Shiro tells him. He could say a million things about how beautiful Keith looks like this and Keith’s lack of restraint when he finds something he likes. Shiro loves watching his face while it happens. “Feels like you were meant for this, baby. I love watching you figure out how much you like this.”

Keith’s mouth makes a silent little  _ o  _ of surprise, like he didn’t expect Shiro’s answer to be so overwhelmingly positive. Shiro noses along the underside of Keith’s jaw, kissing his just barely scratchy skin. It makes Keith shiver and his rhythm jumps; Shiro’s mouth curls up with satisfaction, reveling in what Keith feels like when he’s overwhelmed and uncertain what sensations to focus on. Shiro’s hands slide down Keith’s sides, pressing against smooth leather as it passes, and he holds Keith’s hips gently, rolling with his movement. 

“Fuck,” Keith says, and then he grinds his hips down hard. Shiro loses his breath. “Fuck, you’re so—”

“So what, baby?” Shiro asks, thumbing over the tops of his spread thighs. 

Keith groans like he’s in pain, but he fucks himself down hard on Shiro’s dick and then hisses out the word  _ yes _ between his teeth. He sounds incredible, and Shiro still wants to hear every one of his thoughts, so he prompts Keith again to finish his sentence. 

“You don’t—don’t let anything go, do you,” Keith pants, his open mouth curling up in a smile. “I was just—just thinking. Never had anything,  _ oh,  _ this big inside me before.”

Shiro burns at the admission. “Yeah, baby?” he asks.

“Feels—feels really good,” Keith says. He leans forward for a kiss, and Shiro surges up into it. He threads fingers through Keith’s long hair and tries not to pull too hard; Keith is driving him wild just like this, and he doesn’t even  _ know _ that he’s doing it to Shiro. He looks incredible, he sounds divine, he tastes like ambrosia. 

Shiro loves this. He loves this so much, but god, does he want to make Keith scream.

He grips Keith’s hips tighter, helping him along and dragging him down even harder on Shiro’s cock. Keith whines happily and his kisses become even more enthusiastic, hands clutching at Shiro’s neck to keep him close.

Keith breaks the kiss to drag his mouth down Shiro’s throat and bite at his collarbone. 

"What if—what if I wanted you to really give it to me?" Keith asks, breathless. His cheeks are flushed red with exertion and arousal, spreading down his neck to the top of his chest. He squeezes Shiro’s bicep, and the suggestion is clear. 

Shiro lifts Keith up and pulls him down onto his cock, hard. “Who says I’m not really giving it to you?” he says once Keith’s cry stops ringing in the air. He does it again, hard as he can, and he holds Keith there, all the way down on his dick. Keith squirms to keep moving, but Shiro keeps him in place, makes him really feel how full he is. “You must need it bad, baby, if this isn’t enough for you.”

"I— _ fuck,  _ fuck—I can take it, Shiro, I want it,” Keith swears. He fixes the most pleading gaze on Shiro, his mouth uncontrollably open. “You said you would take care of me."

Shiro latches onto Keith’s neck with a growl, sucking hard on the skin. He  _ wants _ to leave little red bruises all over him. Buried all the way inside Keith, it's hard to think beyond the moment about anything other than how tight and hot Keith is around him. “You want me to fuck you?” he whispers. “Want me to hold you down and make you scream for me, baby?”

"Please," Keith begs. He looks at Shiro with big, shining eyes, and Shiro feels his defenses crumbling. "I don’t—I don’t want you to hold back, Shiro, you feel  _ so good.” _

What is Shiro going to do, say no to the sexy man in his lap begging for Shiro to really make him feel it? No. No, he’s not going to say  _ no. _ But he is gonna take a deep breath and tell himself that he can’t do any of that if he comes right now because Keith begs so prettily, acting like Shiro is changing his life with his cock.

He can’t think about that. It makes him burn inside.

Shiro kisses Keith hard while he helps Keith climb off his lap. Keith humors him for a moment, but then he nips hard at Shiro’s bottom lip in reprimand and Shiro can only push him down in response. 

He shoves Keith face-first into the bed without remorse, hips propped up with his knees underneath him, and Keith has the gall to wiggle his ass with excitement. Shiro gets one look at Keith’s hole, already clearly fucked open, and the rush of blood from his head makes him dizzy. He drapes his body over Keith’s so he can kiss the back of his neck as he notches the head of his cock against Keith’s hole, ready to take him again.

“Yeah?” Shiro whispers.

_ “Please,”  _ Keith answers, and that’s all the reassurance Shiro needs.

He fucks back inside Keith again, whispering praise into his ear the whole time. Keith gasps in shock and delight, fingers curling uncontrollably in the sheets next to his head, and he pushes his legs even farther apart. Shiro reaches for Keith’s cock, unable to help himself—he wants to hear Keith even more, whatever it takes, and Keith rewards him for it. Every moan sounds like music to Shiro, every flex of his body exciting.

Shiro lets go of his cock so it isn’t over too quickly, and he splays a hand over Keith’s abs to hold him tight. 

“How’s this, baby?” he asks, breathing roughly as he fucks Keith harder. “Is this what you wanted?”

Keith whines and presses his face into the sheets so he can let out a groan, maybe his loudest one yet. Pride roars inside Shiro’s chest and he takes Keith with all the strength in his thighs, vision going hazy at the edges from lust. He isn’t chasing an orgasm, not yet, only chasing Keith’s own pleasure. Keith takes it so fucking well that Shiro can barely  _ think.  _ There’s already so much to concentrate on while Shiro is fucking Keith with as much finesse as he can manage, tasting the skin at the base of his neck. 

He’s so caught up in Keith’s body that he almost misses the words that come out of Keith’s mouth.

Shiro’s hips stutter to a halt, buried deep inside Keith.

“What did you say?” Shiro asks hesitantly. He can’t possibly have heard what he thinks he did. Shiro has to be projecting his own filthy thoughts onto something perfectly innocent. Keith wouldn’t spring something like that on Shiro during his first time having sex. That’s—that’s something Shiro is pretty sure only happens in  _ porn. _

“Sorry,” Keith gasps, his breath ragged. “I didn’t mean—”

Shiro blinks and shushes him, grinding his hips into Keith to distract him; Shiro wants the truth, not whatever Keith thinks he should say. “If you did mean it,” Shiro says slowly, “you should say it again. I won’t be upset.”

Silence and stillness reign for a beat and then Keith’s voice comes like a prayer. 

“Daddy,” he says, voice cracking on the word. “I called you daddy.”

Shiro shudders and tucks his nose into the side of Keith’s neck, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and sweat. He smells enticingly human. 

_ Daddy.  _ It sends shivers up Shiro’s spine just to think about it—he never expected how good it would sound in his ears, but he also never could have expected Keith. He bites gently at the side of Keith’s neck just to feel him tremble with arousal. “Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy to fuck you?”

Keith whimpers. “Y-yeah,” he breathes. His hand moves, finding the hand Shiro is using to prop himself up over Keith, and Keith twines them together as best as he can. The small gesture means wonders, giving Shiro a strength he didn’t know he needed.

“Baby,” Shiro whispers. “You feel so fucking good for me, you know that? I never could have imagined when I saw you in that club how perfect you would be.”

Keith’s breath hitches in a new way and Shiro knows he’s found something fun. He suspects it’s the praise.

“Please,” Keith whines, “please fuck me.”

“You got it, babe.”

Shiro pulls back. He hates to put distance between their bodies as the cool air rushes in over his sweaty skin, but he wants the leverage. 

Little noises punch out of Keith’s chest with every thrust inside. It’s hard to hear him all the way up here, so Shiro winds a hand in the red leather strap leading down the center of Keith’s back and hauls him up onto his knees, practically pulling him into Shiro’s lap and deep onto Shiro’s cock in the process.

“Daddy,” Keith gasps. His hands flail like he doesn’t know what to do with them, so Shiro captures the one still wearing a glove in his free hand to lace their fingers together. He holds Keith there by the harness and their hands tangled together over Keith’s stomach. Shiro’s thighs burn with the strain of fucking him from this angle, but it’s so worth it for the chance to taste Keith’s skin and whisper into his ear how good he is.

“That’s it, baby,” Shiro says. “That’s it, let me hear you. How’s it feel?”

“So good,” Keith moans. His free hand reaches up and wraps around the back of Shiro’s head, keeping him close. “You’re so—so deep, daddy, I c-can’t believe it.”

“I am,” Shiro says, manic glee filling his throat. “You’re taking daddy’s cock like it’s easy, baby, like you were made for this.”

Keith sobs, his whole body twisting like he isn’t sure if he wants to get closer or move farther away. Shiro’s prosthetic hand tightens its grip on the strap of the harness until the leather buckles under his hold and he has to force himself to calm down. He wouldn’t want to ruin it, not when Keith looks so amazing in it.

“Feels so—so fucking good,” Keith chokes out. His muscles tremble and Shiro lets go of the harness so he can wrap both arms securely around Keith, keep him upright on his knees so Shiro can touch his whole body without losing a single bit of leverage as he fucks Keith hard. Even in the most heated moment, he wants to take care of Keith, to see him through this with support and a single-minded dedication to his pleasure. It’s something about Keith’s big eyes and the sharp cut of his smile. He doesn’t look like he would crumble to dust in Shiro’s hold, and Shiro cannot get enough.

Shiro presses his face into Keith’s neck, unable to break away from him for even a second. “I wanna do so much more to you than this, baby,” Shiro murmurs. “The way you sound—makes me want to keep you up all night.”

“Who says you can’t?” Keith gasps, squirming in Shiro’s hold.

Shiro smiles, kissing his neck. He slows his pace to a brutal grind, just to force Keith to really feel it, and it gets him the whine he hoped for. “I like when you ask for what you want, baby. I wanna hear you.”

“Daddy,” Keith says, his tone just barely scandalized.

“Let daddy take care of you,” Shiro croons in his ear. He slowly rolls one of Keith’s nipples in his fingers. “You ever had a mouth around your cock, baby? No?” He smiles at Keith’s whimper. “Will you let me take care of you, then? Make you come on my dick and then suck you off until you’re hard again? God, wanna taste you so bad, baby.  _ Fuck.” _

Keith moans loudly at that, hissing out another yes. He’s beautiful like this, his body moving against Shiro with abandon. 

“That’s it,” Shiro says. He fucks Keith harder, ignoring the burn in his muscles. 

Keith’s hand squeezes tight in Shiro’s hair, and it should be painful but all Shiro can feel is excitement. “Wanna—wanna suck you off, too,” Keith gasps. He sounds so excited and Shiro sucks a mark into his neck as a reward. “Please, daddy, I’ll be so—so good—”

“Yeah, baby, you think you can take it?” Shiro doesn’t have any control over what comes out of his mouth like this, can only respond to Keith with filth.

“I don’t have a--a gag reflex,” Keith says, half a giggle falling from his mouth. “Bet you’d like it.”

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro groans. Now he can’t get the image of Keith’s mouth around his cock out of his mind—his lips stretched wide, his eyes tearing up at the corners because no amount of bravado or excitement could prepare Keith. Shiro wants to hold his cheek and pet his hair while they test that gag reflex. “You’ll be so--so good for me, I know you will, baby, yeah.”

“Yes, daddy,  _ yes.” _

“God,” Shiro says. He wants to come so badly, but he can’t quit now. “Y-you close, baby?”

“Daddy, yes—”

“Can you feel it?” Shiro presses him. “Right here, baby, right under our hands.” He flattens Keith’s palm against his lower stomach, Shiro’s thumb just barely brushing the harness. 

Keith moans. Shiro doesn’t know if he really can feel the shape of Shiro’s cock moving inside him, but the image, the thought of it—that’s clearly enough to push Keith to the edge. He sobs for Shiro, the hand wrapped around the back of Shiro’s head falling to his own cock. Shiro looks down over Keith’s shoulder in fascination as he touches himself, and it’s just seconds before he comes with a cry, squeezing hard around Shiro’s cock. 

“Good boy, Keith,” Shiro pants into his ear. Keith shakes apart in his arms and Shiro doesn’t let him go. He’s on the precipice of orgasm too, but he won’t let it come until he gets a hand around Keith’s cock too, stroking him through the last of it. Keith is the best thing Shiro’s ever heard, his mouth open to the sky with wordless pleasure. 

“So good,” Shiro whispers, and then Keith’s hand is tugging Shiro’s away from his cock. He pulls Shiro’s messy fingers up to his mouth, cleaning the taste of himself off them, moaning like there’s real pleasure in it.

_ Oh my god,  _ Shiro thinks.

Shiro comes so hard his vision whites out and black stars burst behind his eyelids, face hiding in Keith’s shoulder as his mind surrenders. He loses himself completely in Keith’s body, cock buried deep inside him. At the junction of his neck and shoulder, he smells so good that Shiro can’t stop breathing him in, letting the scent settle his mind as pleasure fizzles through him. His hand falls from Keith’s mouth to his chest, petting over soft skin and reveling in the warmth between them. 

“Holy shit,” Keith says weakly. He leans back against Shiro’s chest, sitting heavily on his thighs. Shiro pulls him in with arms around his waist and slumps back to sit on his heels, welcoming Keith’s spent body up against his own. Keith repeats, softer, “Holy shit.”

“That a good  _ holy shit, _ baby?” Shiro asks. He doesn’t think he’s reading this wrong, but he still wants to hear it. A part of him is selfish, but mostly he just wants to know that Keith is doing okay.

Keith swallows hard. When he speaks, his voice is edged with hoarseness that wasn’t there before—like maybe he’s moaned so much his voice is going. It turns out there’s no end to the amount of heat Keith makes Shiro feel.

“Good,” Keith says. He sounds dazed. “Really good. I’m . . . I think that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened.”

Shiro expects that sentence to end in ‘to me.’ It doesn’t.

“I think I’m going to agree with that,” Shiro says after a moment. 

“I didn’t mean to, um, call you that, by the way,” Keith admits, hesitant and embarrassed. Shiro noses at his neck and strokes from his chest to the tops of his thighs, up and down, over leather and soft dark hair alike. “It just—slipped out.”

Shiro kisses his neck. “I’m glad it did,” he says, smiling into his skin as he finally releases Keith. He guides them apart so he can get rid of the condom and drop it in the trash next to the bed before his mouth finds Keith’s again. He presses Keith back against the pillows and revels in the movement of his lips, mouth still bitter from tasting himself, and Shiro doesn’t care about that at all.

Keith pulls back after the longest moment. “It was really good, though,” he says quickly, like he’s worried Shiro will interrupt him. “I wanted—I mean, I’ve thought about that, but I never thought it would really happen.”

Shiro’s hand curves over Keith’s cheek, his thumb brushing the high spot of Keith’s cheekbone. “I’ve thought about that a lot, too,” he confesses with their noses brushing. “No one’s ever called me that before, baby. I think you might be special.”

Keith shivers and curls closer. “You’re just saying that,” he says.

Shiro cuts him off with a kiss before he can say any more. He gets the doubt. He understands why Keith would think that. But there isn’t anything doubtful about the warm light filling his chest; Shiro might be high on endorphins, but there is no contest between this and any other man he’s ever met. 

“Let me prove it to you,” Shiro says, instead of a denial. Keith’s sigh ghosts over his lips. 

“You’re determined,” he murmurs.

Shiro kisses him for his trouble, rolling on top of Keith so he can’t mistake how much Shiro really does want him. Keith accepts him happily, his hands sliding over Shiro’s back with a new kind of surety, like he knows exactly how he wants to touch Shiro now. Keith is just as addictive naked in Shiro’s bed as he was when he pulled Shiro in to kiss him for the first time. Shiro doesn’t know if he believes in true love or love at first sight or soulmates or anything, but . . . .

But damn. Damn, if the way Keith kisses him isn’t life-changing.

"I'm not done with you yet," Shiro promises, breaking the kiss. He stares down into the dark, glittering depths of Keith’s eyes and swears to himself that he isn’t going to let Keith leave this bed without first giving him the best night of his life. 

“No?” Keith says, the sound barely ghosting out between his lips. He blinks at Shiro with eyelashes like ink splashed over his skin, and Shiro’s heart twists.

“We’ve got a long night ahead of us, baby,” Shiro whispers, “and I’m going to show you just how special you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! as always i am on twitter @[disloyalpunk](https://twitter.com/disloyalpunk) <3


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